


Exposed

by jujukittychick



Category: Knives Out (2019)
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Anal Sex, Exhibitionism, Explicit Consent, M/M, Mild BDSM, Older Man/Younger Man, Power Imbalance, Sort Of, Under-negotiated Kink, it's really not as dark as it sounds, mild bondage, slight dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 14:21:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21303521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jujukittychick/pseuds/jujukittychick
Summary: Ransom was seeking some peace and quiet away from his family.  Unknowingly, he winds up in the same room as Detective Blanc, who decides Ransom is acting a bit suspicious.  Just for safety's sake, Detective Blanc decides Ransom should be searched...thoroughly.  Ransom is quite happy to comply.
Relationships: Ransom Drysdale/Benoit Blanc
Comments: 30
Kudos: 158





	Exposed

**Author's Note:**

> Yay, yet another fic for a movie that isn't out yet *facepalm*. Yay, more smut...that isn't part of one of my many WIPs *facepalm*. Hope you guys enjoy :D
> 
> P.S. - The tags make this sound a lot darker than it is, but I was tagging for worst case, for safety's sake. If you'd like a summary, it's at the end. Basically, this is just a long dose of D/s smut :D

In the end, as with most things involving his grandfather’s birthday and everything that happened after, Ransom completely blamed his relatives for the situation he wound up in. Even if he did quite appreciate how things turned out afterwards.

~~~

Ranson looked around quickly, checking that the coast was clear, before slipping into his grandfather’s writing room/office/throne room with its giant wheel of death sitting in its place of honor backlit by the large picture window behind it. Sighing as the quiet of the room settled over him, so much nicer than his relatives shrieking and bitching he’d been listening to non-stop ever since his grandfather’s birthday, he made his way over to the large circular framework loaded down with daggers of every shape and size. He had to give the old man credit, it was an impressive display, intimidating and threatening, perfect for a genial looking old man who made his living off of murder mysteries. He wondered what would happen to them all now.

Looking over the stylized blades and the intricately carved handles, his hand lifted on its own, fingers ghosting just above the deadly little items. Ransom could appreciate the beauty of some of the pieces, but he’d never been a violent person, at the most participating in an occasional drunken brawl involving fists, but to use something like the daggers before him, something  _ made _ to spill blood, to kill...he was quite happy to look and not touch.

“Mr. Drysdale, I do wonder what has brought you here after me. Though I would suggest not touchin’ anythin’ as you wouldn’t want to leave any fingerprints on a potential murder weapon. Unless, that is, you’ve come to remove said fingerprints.”

Ransom jumped as the voice called out to him, hand jerking back to tuck against his chest, his heart racing as he looked around for the only person he knew whose cultured voice rolled like velvet over and around and through him. He finally noticed the man sitting tucked away in the alcove next to the piano, the soft  _ ping _ of his ever present coin as it flicked into the air giving him away. Too startled and off balance merely by the man’s presence in what he’d assumed was an empty room, he was unable to pull forward the mocking smile he usually wore around him. “Detective Blanc! No...I mean, I’m not here to remove anything. And I didn’t follow you; I didn’t know you were in here. I thought I was alone.”

Ransom watched as the detective stood and began walking gracefully across the room, a shiver going through him at the way the almost predatory look the older man had. Those glacier blue eyes, the crisp pressed suit, the strong body hinted at underneath - very much an urban predator on the hunt.

“Hmm, is that so? And here you are, a murder suspect, by your own words believin’ yourself alone in a room with a full display of murder weapons that you were so closely studyin’. What else could you be doin’ here?”

Ransom’s throat felt dry as a desert as he watched the detective draw nearer, his words making him realize exactly how the situation looked to a very suspicious outsider. Tongue darting nervously over his dry lips, he shook his head, arms crossed over his chest. “That wasn’t...have you _ met _ my relatives? They’re driving me insane and as we’re not allowed to leave, I came in here for some peace and quiet. That’s all. I’m not a violent man, Detective.”

“The thing is, Mr. Drysdale,” a hand darted out, quick as a striking snake and grabbed Ransom’s arm, tugging him back and spinning him around until he was pressed solidly against the back of the death wheel, that slow, cultured voice speaking softly next to his ear as a hard body pressed against the full length of his own from behind, “anybody can become violent if provoked. I have seen your police record, quite a few drunk and disorderlies, usually involvin’ other people sportin’ black eyes and broken noses. Not exactly an indication of you bein’ a  _ peaceful _ person, especially as...physically intimidatin’ as you could appear. Is it, Mr. Drysdale?”

Breathing heavily, Ransom turned his head to try to look at the man pinning him to the metal frame, two calloused hands pinning his own hands above his head, a leg shoved between his own to limit his movements. He could break away, he thought, maybe, but how much worse would that just make the situation. Plus, well, he wasn’t exactly  _ disliking _ the position he was in either, as fucked up as that realization was. “That’s...that’s just it, Detective, I was in college and got drunk in bars and got in fights over sports or...or insults...or something else stupid that seemed important at the time. And you can look at the pictures in the house; I was always the smallest growing up. I worked hard for this body, if I come off as intimidating...I can’t help that.” 

A muscular thigh pressing firmly against his balls had him gasping and his body arching back against his captor. He was so confused and nervous and - fuck everything - turned on right then, he didn’t know what to do. “What...what are you going to do with me?”

“I think, considerin’ you are a suspect, and I have caught you in a frankly suspicious situation, I should do a manual search of your body. Do you agree?”

_ Oh gods above! _ It was official, Ransom was in hell, or purgatory? Or...or some alternate universe, because this man, this intensely assured man, with his velvet voice and hard body and piercing eyes wanted to  _ manually search _ him?! This seriously could not be going where it sounded like it was going. Sucking in a harsh breath, Ransom nodded the best he could. “That...that would probably be for the best...to clear up any suspicion.”

“I thought you might see it my way. Good boy.”

Ransom’s whole body jerked at those words, eyes flying open to glance back at the man behind him as he had to bite back a startled moan. Eyes closing, he swallowed hard, cursing the situation as his mind and body seemed to be at odds about how to react. “Oh, fuck  _ me _ .”

“We shall see.”

That deep Southern voice came out in a growling whisper pressed next to Ransom’s ear, making him bite back another moan. Part of him knew that all he had to do was say something and the older man would back off, probably even apologize, and nothing would be said about what had happened so far ever again. The rest of him believed firmly that if he stopped what was about to happen, he’d be regretting it forever though.

Calloused fingertips brushed against his neck as his scarf was pulled gently away, the silky material sending shivers through him as it dragged across his skin. His hands, which had started to drop from their pinned position once freed, were once more captured and held against the frame, this time being secured by his scarf as it was wound through the frame before being loosely knotted around his wrists. Ransom felt his throat go dry as he gave his bonds a gentle tug; nothing he couldn’t slip from if needed, but the threat, the very  _ idea _ of it had his body lighting up in ways he hadn’t experienced before.

The firm presence against his back disappeared for a moment, leaving him feeling suddenly very much, unreasonably, vulnerable and alone. Trying to turn around to find out where the detective had gone, scarf tugging against his wrists, he had to wonder what he looked like when one of those strong hands ran gently down the center of his back.

“Shh. Careful, Mr. Drysdale, wouldn’t want to leave any marks. Besides, you should know, I would never leave a captive suspect unsupervised.”

Ransom sighed, relieved by the grounding touch, wondering once again how the hell this man was able to get to him so easily. As soon as the detective had spoken, he’d lost complete control of the situation. Trying to fight his body’s responses, he held himself still as those broad, strong hands glided over his outstretched arms, a fluttering, teasing touch at his wrists, firmer strokes over his biceps. He bit his tongue as the detective’s voice lowered, became something even richer, just meant for the two of them to hear.

“You, see, Mr. Drysdale, I have noticed quite a few things about you. The way you watch those around you. The way you use that smart mouth of yours to push your family members into screamin’ fits every time I’m around. I must thank you for that; they’ve revealed quite a bit that way. But that was your intention, after all, wasn’t it?” 

Ransom let his head rest against his arm as the slowly moving hands slipped down his arms to run across his shoulders, down his back. The mention of thanks brought them slipping up underneath the hem of his shirt to graze over the bare skin of his chest, mapping his defined abs and upwards to just barely graze his nipples before slipping away once more. It was official, the man was going to kill him,  _ death by erotic torture _ . He felt like he’d been running a race the way his breath was catching, his heart pounding, and the man had barely touched him. Trying to find some semblance of intelligence, he nodded slightly. “Yeah...yeah, they, um, they’re not great at keeping secrets when...when, um...when they’re trying to put down each other.”

“Hmmm, such a clever boy, instigatin’ them and waitin’ to see who incriminates themselves.”

Ransom couldn’t stop the whine that slipped from him at the gentle praise, taking a moment to bite his bicep to keep any other embarrassing noises from slipping past until he could get control of himself again. He felt the presence behind him shift, heard the rustle of clothing, and then hands were encasing his left ankle, squeezing gently for a moment before moving once more - firm steady strokes up his calf and the sides of his knee, fingers spreading out to more fully cover the width of his thigh, fingertips just barely grazing the curve of his ass and bringing him onto his tiptoes as his body wound tighter in both desperation and anticipation. He’d never been this turned on in his life and, when the hands dropped away, a full body shiver went through him, his body arching as it tried to find a way to release the erotic tension that had built steadily.

“But, somethin’ else I’ve noticed, you tend to migrate into whatever room I’m in at any moment. Now, whether this is intentional or not, I cannot say, but it was somethin’ to make note of. But, then... _ then _ I noticed how often your gaze slips to me, lingers as I speak. You could be decidin’ if I’ve discovered your deceit, I suppose, but I don’t think that is the case.”

Ransom had finally started to writhe slightly against the metal frame as those clever, evil, hands made their way up his right leg the same as they had his left, stopping once more just as the detective’s fingertips grazed the curve of his ass, faintly tracing the elastic of his briefs through his jeans to his inner thigh. He shook his head “no” repeatedly at the implied question, wondering how anyone thought they could deceive the detective for long with how perceptive and clever he was.

He felt the hands drop away yet again, his body arching and shuddering once more in withdrawal. But then the full length of the detective’s hard body was pressed once more against his back, his hands running up the sides of his thighs, his hips, fingertips dipping teasingly under his waistband. The detective’s voice had grown even huskier, the evidence of his own interest pressed firmly against the crease of Ransom’s ass.

“I would expect a case of guilty nerves, but for the way I can feel your gaze lingerin’ on my body as I leave the room, the way I catch you starin’ when I see your reflection in the window. I can feel it like a physical caress against my skin, did you know that, Ransom?”

Ransom gasped at the words, rocking back against the hard length pressed so firmly against him. As he felt the hands slide across his hips and down over his groin, he couldn’t hold back the needy whine that slipped from him as they stopped suddenly, framing his straining dick without actually touching it. And the way he said his name, like velvet and sex and a physical touch as he mouthed it against Ransom’s neck...he felt words slipping from his mouth, but had no idea what he was saying anymore, completely focused on the body behind him, the man that had completely obliterated any boundaries he thought he had. “I...no, I didn’t know. Just...oh please, please, Sir, I can’t...I need…”

“Shhh. You’re doin’ so well, Ransom. Look at you, so big and strong, and behavin’ so well for me. But, these pants are awfully baggy; I think a strip search may be needed. Do you agree, Ransom?”

As clouded as Ransom’s mind was with lust, with the absolute  _ need _ he was feeling at the moment, he realized what the detective was asking him. He looked up, saw the slightly open door where anybody walking by would be able to see and hear them, could see the daylight coming from behind them from the uncovered window, only the detective’s broad form and ever present coat to block the view of anybody strolling past. He’d be tied up, half naked, and potentially -  _ hopefully _ \- getting fucked, completely at the detective’s mercy. He could cry chicken, call the game off, pretend nothing had happened, or maybe convince the good detective to follow him back to his room and continue things there. But.. 

Oh, he’d had plenty of sex before, but he’d never once felt anything this intense, this overpowering, never felt so out of control of his emotions and yet grounded by a single touch from his partner. And the things he’s been finding out about himself since the detective had first manhandled him into position...Ransom was pretty sure only the detective himself could draw those feelings from him. Tongue darting over his lips nervously, placing his trust in the detective’s hands, he nodded once again. “I think that would be...be a good idea, Sir.”

Ransom felt a gentle press of lips to the curve of his jaw, a firm press of the detective’s own hard cock against his ass as he was held tightly against the older man’s body for a moment, a husky whisper pressed against his neck.

“Such a good boy for me, Ransom. So beautiful, so perfect.”

Ransom almost sobbed at the feelings coursing through him, whether from the whispered words or the hand that suddenly gripped his throbbing cock through his jeans he didn’t know. Nimble fingers unfasted his jeans, sweeping underneath the waistband of his briefs to slide both jeans and underwear down over his hips in one smooth movement, freeing his cock to the cool air and making his hips buck in reaction. Soon enough, a warm hand was taking away the chill, fondling his balls, sweeping up and over his cock, already slick from leaking pre-cum, providing just enough pressure to relieve some of the ache but nowhere near enough to actually cum. He felt a kiss pressed to his shoulder and then the detective was stepping back away from him, though he kept a foot pressed against his own, anchoring him. He heard the rustle of clothing once more, a zipper pulled, the suspicious crinkle of foil packaging, and then there was a cool, slick finger probing gently at his entrance. Trying to relax his body, he spread his legs as wide as he could with his pants trapping them around his knees. “Please...oh please, yes!”

“Shh, darlin’, I’ll give you what you need, don’t worry. Bein’ so good for me, Ransom. Look at how hard you are...how desperate.”

Ransom was going to have a giant bruise on his bicep from how he kept biting it to keep from calling out, from whining and begging as that one thick finger thrust into him hard and fast, fucking him with every word the detective spoke. His whole body jerked and a broken cry slipped from him before he muffled his mouth against his arm once again as a second slick finger was quickly added. He realized suddenly, as a clock started chiming the hour, how long the two had been alone in the room, and the chances that nobody would seek them out soon were not good.  _ Fuuuuck _ , they were not going to be able to take their time with this.

“Wish you could see this, you’re takin’ my fingers so well, openin’ up so nicely for me. You’re desperate for this aren’t you, darlin’? Look at you, lettin’ me tie you up and strip you,  _ fuck you _ , where any of your family could see. Only thing better is if I could hear those lovely noises you’re makin’, hear you  _ begging _ me to use you.”

Ransom keened into the hand that was suddenly covering his mouth as a third finger was roughly added to the other two fucking him open, hips rocking back eagerly to meet every harsh thrust. He could feel pre-cum streaming down his cock non-stop, the exposure and rough treatment and dirty words all conspiring to send him hurtling quickly towards the edge. Pulling back slightly from the hand covering his mouth, he did as the other man requested and begged as quietly as he could. “Please! Please, fuck me...I need you, please...please use my ass, Sir, fuck me!”

“ _ Fuck _ ! So perfect for me, darlin’! So good for me. Try to relax; I am sorry I can’t take more time with you now.”

Ransom felt him step away for just a moment, heard the tell tale sounds of a condom being put on and slicked up and then the large, blunt head of the detective’s cock was pressing against his still tight hole, pressing forward steadily as Ransom tried to relax, felt the burn of being stretched by the thick length slowly filling him. He could feel the smooth fabric of the detective’s expensive slacks brushing the back of his legs, the front of his coat brushing the sides of his thighs, realized that the other man was completely dressed while he was half naked and ramping up his desire even more. The detective barely paused long enough for him to adjust and relax slightly before he was drawing back only to start pounding into him, one hand stroking his dick, the other still covering his mouth, keeping the noises and pleas slipping from him from alerting his family and the cops.

“Fuck, you feel so good, darlin’. Want to tie you up in bed, spend hours teasin’ you, keepin’ your pretty dick hard while I get your tight little hole worked all open and wet, ready for me to just slip my dick in whenever I’m ready.”

That was it. Between the pounding his prostate was taking, the hand stroking him, and the images flashing through his head from the detective’s words, Ransom damn near screamed into the detective’s hand as he started to cum, coating the detective’s other hand as he shot load after load, his stomach clenching almost painfully with the force of his orgasm. It was only a couple more hard thrusts before the detective buried his cock as far as possible inside him, muffling his own moans in Ransom’s shoulder. They only had a couple minutes to recover before the distant sound of voices had them moving, the detective wiping his hand off and disposing of the condom in some tissues before tucking the evidence of their activities away in his jacket pocket. He gently pulled up Ransom’s briefs, carefully tucking away his spent cock, petting it softly through the fabric as he pressed another kiss to the back of Ransom’s neck.

“Thank you, darlin’. You were so amazin’. I wish… well, we need to get straightened up for now before the others find us.”

After his hands were freed, Ransom pulled his pants back up, watching as the detective straightened his clothing, quickly looking as if nothing had happened. Ransom himself felt lost, knew he must look a wreck if how his body felt was reflected. He’d never had sex that intense, that all consuming, in his life. How was he supposed to go back after experiencing something like that? Looking at the detective as he gently wound Ransom’s scarf back around his neck, Ransom wasn’t sure what to say, what to do.  _ Thanks for the best orgasm of my life? Hey, thanks for making me realize what a kinky bastard I actually am? _ The detective must have seen something because he smiled softly before leaning closer, claiming Ransom’s lips in a sweet, gentle kiss, so at odds with what had happened just moments before.

“Come on, darlin’, let’s get you back to your room, give you some time to come down from this. Maybe get you some of your cookies you’re constantly snackin’ on.”

Ransom watched the teasing smile tilt his lips, watched how icy blue eyes seemed to grow warmer as they stared back at him. “Yeah...yeah, that’s probably a good idea. If I couldn’t put up with the family earlier, I really can’t now after...um, yeah.”

Looking around to make sure there was no evidence, he mentally snorted, of their activities, he led the detective through the echoing halls and upstairs to his bedroom, reining in his urge to hold the other man’s hand. Pausing at his door for only a moment, wondering if he shouldn’t just send the other man away and recover by himself, no matter what might happen, he finally opened it, closing it behind the detective and locking the door...just in case. Feeling a blush creeping across his cheeks, Ransom turned his back on the detective, taking the time to unwind his scarf, sliding it through his hands before letting it pool on the dresser. “Did you mean what you said, Detective?”

Resolutely not looking in the mirror or turning to look at the other man, Ransom pulled his sweater off, replacing it instead with a soft, worn-in henley, seeking the comfort it provided. He felt two strong arms circle around him, pulling him back against the solid body behind him, hugging him close as the detective’s head ducked, leaving a trail of gentle kisses down the side of his neck.

“Benoit, please...or maybe Sir if you’d prefer.”

Ransom met the heated blue gaze in the mirror, his body shivering in remembered emotion of the feeling of that word slipping from him as he begged for anything the older man would give him. “Alright, Benoit...Sir.” He felt Benoit shudder against him, watched as he tucked his face in tight against his neck and inhaled deeply as if steadying himself.

“So fuckin’ perfect, darlin’. Did I mean what? That you were beautiful and amazin’ and perfect? That you were such a good boy lettin’ me take you apart like that? That I wish we’d had more time so I could have been gentler with you? I didn’t get a chance to ask; you’re not hurt are you?”

“No! No you didn’t hurt me.” Shaking his head, he turned around in the other man’s arms to hug him tightly. Blushing brightly as he thought over the rest of Benoit’s words, Ransom ducked his head and pressed a lingering kiss to the base of his throat. “It was good, so,  _ so _ , good. I’ve never cum that hard in my life. It was intense, yeah, but only a good kind of hurt. Promise.”

“Good. So, yes, I meant what I said. Meant what I said about spendin’ time with you in a bed, too. So many things I want to do to you, with you, my darlin’ boy. One day, after all this mess is over, I want to take my time showing you just how perfect you are. Let you show me what a good boy you can be for me.”

Ransom was panting by the time Benoit finished speaking, hips grinding absently against the older man’s leg. The way the man had of painting dirty pictures with his words, the way his fucking  _ voice _ affected him...gods, he was already thinking of trying to talk the man into another round. He really,  _ really _ , didn’t want to wait until this mess with the murder was over to get to have sex again. “Any chance we could squeeze in some less time sensitive stuff between now and then?” Ransom looked at Benoit hopefully, rocking his hips a little more significantly against him, grinning as the other man laughed and pulled him into a quick kiss.

“What did you have in mind, darlin’?”

Ransom sank down on his knees in front of his lover, hands reaching up to the button on the man’s slacks. “Oh, I can think of a few things...Sir.”

**Author's Note:**

> Due to AO3 mods pulling down all three of my plot bunny collections on here, they have all now been moved to a separate site [here](http://jujubunnies.freeforums.net/). They are separated by fandom and type (general/smut/dark). There is also a requests section where you can leave requests, as well as being able to comment on any of the bunnies.
> 
> Summary: After a brief discussion, Blanc, as a detective, grabs Ransom and pins him to a wall and then suggests doing a physical search of Ransom, one of his suspects (abuse of authority/power imbalance/dubcon). The suggestion is hinted at being sexual which Ransom is pretty okay with as he's attracted Blanc. Blanc binds Ransom's hands with his own scarf and proceeds to touch him semi-sexually while talking to him. Wile prepping Ransom for sex, Blanc is rougher than he could be but Ransom is into it (bondage/under-negotiated kink). Other than some dirty talk and Sir/boy, the rest is pretty much just good old smut :)


End file.
